Just Shut up & Sing

Suchandrika Chakrabarti















Death threats have a way of focusing the mind. Just imagine this: you receive a letter stating that you “will be shot dead Sunday, July 6, in Dallas, Texas.” What would your reaction be?

Natalie Maines does not run off screaming. Instead, the lead singer of American country band, the Dixie Chicks, goes straight to the suspect’s photograph. "He's kind of cute," she reckons. Nervous laughter fills the room. "No seriously, he's a good-looking guy." True to form, she takes to the stage in her home state, albeit with a heavily increased security team. The Dixie Chicks have grown used to the animosity of what was once their core fan base.

Admit it. You had never heard of them until this onstage comment at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire in 2003 gave them notoriety: “Just so you know, I’m ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas.” Maines said it, and all three of them have had to deal with the fall-out over the years since. This has included, in no particular order: radio boycotts, fans publicly burning their CDs and – worst of all – a long-running feud with country singer, Toby Keith, who was looking to share some of the profits of their bad publicity.

On the subject of publicity, Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck’s documentary gives an instructive view of the music industry, where politics are less important than sales and image. The Chicks’ manager, Steve Renshaw, is an old hand at the public relations game, and his scheming is impossible to fault: “Won’t be great if we can get the fans burning CDs and banning you from radio?” When these things duly occur, they do indeed bring the Chicks to greater international recognition. They even reflect on the fact that perhaps Maines’ remark has been more of a blessing than a curse – in the long term.

Still, Renshaw’s belief that the whole thing will be over “in three days, tops,” is very far of the mark. Carrying on the record company’s task of rehabilitating the Chicks’ image is another major concern of the film. In the aftermath of the comment, Maines is shown in meetings with managers and music executives, never managing to look suitably contrite, although she does express her support for her country’s army while they remain in Iraq.

The management try to extract promises to not criticise the president any more from her. They have some success. Nevertheless, this does not stop Maines later looking straight at the camera and pronouncing him a “dumbfuck.” All he had ever said was, “The Dixie Chicks are free to say what they want.” Perhaps. Their fans don’t agree.

In fact, their PR company has very little faith in the Chicks’ fans. During a photoshoot for the cover of Entertainment Weekly magazine, in which the Chicks stamp themselves with some of the insults that they have received (including the rather inventive ‘Dixie Sluts’ and ‘Saddam’s Angels’), their publicist, Cindi Berger confesses, "You're giving the American people too much credit.... They're not that smart."

Still, if these parts of the film play well to non-American audiences and those cynical about the music industry, other scenes are clearly attempting to reinstate the Chicks’ reputation as good old-fashioned family gals.

To tempt back alienated country fans, there are many moments of the Chicks backstage with their husbands and small children. Emily Robison, who is the relaxed, earth mother foil to Maines’ new political firebrand persona, says that she only goes on tour because she knows that her family can come with her. The trauma of Emily and her sister/bandmate Martie Maguire’s IVF treatment is also shown in great detail, as well as the happy outcome, including Emily’s newborn twins blinking at the lens.

Events such as this sometimes feel a bit too personal, and slow the main narrative down, but the intent is obvious. The Chicks still stand for the same domestic values as ever, so, original fans, you have nothing to fear.

The overarching political element of the documentary is what really drives the narrative, and makes its release very well-timed. The shifting reactions to Maines’ comment shown in the film highlight Bush’s declining popularity. In Kopple’s words: “It’s hard to imagine, in the wake of the Democratic takeover of Congress, the resignation of Donald Rumsfeld and the rejection of the Bush agenda,” that Maines’ anti-Bush sentiment could have had such an impact back then. Shut Up & Sing certainly does not shy away from looking at what has changed, as it vindicates Maines’ stance in 2003.

In early 2003, the Chicks were the number one in the American charts and in the hearts of American country fans. As they admit themselves, the anti-Bush statement sounded worse coming from them because of their perception both within and outside their fanbase. As Maines put it at the Toronto film festival earlier this year, “Jennifer Aniston said that he is a fucking idiot. Y’all didn’t think she was that smart, did ya? She’s very smart.”

The technique of shuttling back and forth between 2003 and 2006 footage is a neat way of showing how public opinion has changed, particularly as Maines returns to the scene of the crime and repeats the joke in 2006 – knowing full well that the climate has changed. So, rather than the shocked faces of American news anchors in 2003, the latest footage shows the Republicans losing in popularity polls. By sticking to real-life news clips, Kopple and Peck show how the Chicks controversy becomes drowned out by the proliferation of anti-war headlines.

This is not the first time that the Oscar-winning Barbara Kopple has tackled incendiary issues on film. Her two awards were for Harlan County USA (1976) and American Dream (1990), both of which, like Shut Up & Sing, involve real people and what happens to their lives when the political intrudes. The making of Harlan County involved the 26-year-old Kopple moving to Kentucky for four years, in order to cover the coal miner’s strike. Working on a much smaller scale than with Shut Up & Sing, the documentary reports on the frequently violent clashes between the workers and the corporation that wants to exploit them.

In American Dream, meatpacking workers strike, with life-altering results. As with Shut Up & Sing, the story is fleshed out with interviews, contemporary news clips and fly-on-the-wall observation. Unlike the Chicks, however, the protagonists of Harlan County and American Dream are not cushioned by fame, and are taking bigger risks in putting their careers on the line.

Kopple justifies taking the Dixie Chicks on as a subject because she feels that the fortunes of their past few years have been the inverse of the Bush administration. “It's not only a story about the transformation of these three incredible women and musicians, but also a story of a nation in transformation,” she claims. Maines’ anti-Bush outbursts must also have proved irresistible for a director who has often told the story of the ordinary people challenging the establishment.

Kopple adds that the film’s trajectory shows that there is hope for America as well as for the band: “We have gone through so much over the past three years - from feeling helpless and ignored in the rush to war, to feeling disdain and despair for the polarised political climate, to now feeling like we might finally be on the right track again.” Consequently, the distributors, The Weinstein Company, timed the film’s release to coincide with this year’s elections.

A noticeable increase in political filmmaking has characterised the last few years. The form has varied, from re-enactions of specific events, such as in Munich and United 93; to fictional films heavy with political messages such as Fast Food Nation and Paradise Now; and finally, to investigative documentaries that analyse trade, such as Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price, and Black Gold, which looks at the plight of African coffee farmers.

With Shut Up & Sing, however, the camera is firmly trained upon the public too. From the ex-fans who suggest that Maines should be “strapped to a bomb” and dropped into the war zone, to the foreign audiences who suddenly develop affection for the Dixie Chicks, the film is as concerned with those reading and watching the news, as well as those making it.

Some of the most angered fans, such as those who told the band to “keep playing your music… keep your mouths shut,” will probably not be taking the Chicks back into their arms again. In fact, perhaps very few of the viewers will feel the need to rush out for a copy of their latest album.

Still, Shut Up & Sing proves to be an edifying look at the changing nature of American politics over the last few years, as well as at the media’s power to bolster or alter opinion. Kopple is overstating it when she says, “In a way, Natalie was the first casualty of the Iraq war,” because of the terrible press that ensued. Nevertheless, the fact remains that adverts for the film are still banned from a number of American channels, including NBC, whose reason is that it is “disparaging to the President.”

Despite the optimism of Shut Up & Sing, there is still some way to go. After all, the film begins eighteen months after the start of the Iraq war, but the end of the latter is still not in sight.